


RED

by Comedia



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: 1980s, Angst, Happy Ending, Johnny's POV, M/M, introspective, mentions of abuse, no beta we die like men, or well hints at a happy ending it's sort of open ended, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:20:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comedia/pseuds/Comedia
Summary: Johnny finds a red hoodie in the boy's locker room. He ends up keeping it for decades.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 34
Kudos: 139





	RED

**Author's Note:**

> i just had to write about the hoodie. like, how could i not? hope y'all like it <3

Johnny is alone in the boy’s locker room when the piece of fabric catches his eye. He’s lingered in the showers, hoping that the running water could clear his mind if he just runs it hot enough. By the time he exits the showers with a towel around his waist, he’s the only one left. The room is messy. Water bottles and socks strewn about – some dumbass has even forgotten his sneakers – and then… there’s the hoodie.

Bright red cotton, lined with white. He’d recognize it anywhere. LaRusso wears the thing constantly. Like, to a degree where you wonder if he even owns any other clothing. Johnny stares at the damn thing. It’s probably all disgusting and worn out. Probably has holes in it. Probably smells like LaRusso.

Johnny stands in the doorway to the showers for a while, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth in thought. The room is cold, and he shivers. He can’t just stand around, and so, he goes to pick the hoodie up.

Once it’s in his hands, he isn’t sure what he intends to do with it. It’s just a cotton hoodie, probably from a second-hand shop or some shit. Would it even be worth messing with it? It’s not like it’s designer and has any actual value. But maybe LaRusso really likes it? Maybe he’d get pissed off if Johnny were to… cut holes in it? Fuck, he needs to be more creative about this. What kind of child just tears up someone else’s shirt? That’s just juvenile.

It’s very soft.

Soft in a way that very few of Johnny’s clothes are. He has a lot of them, but he doesn’t really have anything that he wears often enough that it’d feel this… comfortable. Maybe his leather jacket, or his gi, but that’s about it. There aren’t any clothes in his closet that feel well-loved the way this hoodie does.

He stares at it for a long time, and considers just putting it back on the bench. LaRusso will probably come looking for it anyway.

Except, he can’t quite bring himself to put it down. It’s like his body has already decided to take it, and his mind just needs to catch up with the impulse. Another shiver runs down his spine, and he snaps out of his hesitation; heading back to his own things and quickly getting dressed.

It feels wrong shoving the hoodie into his bag of sweaty football gear. At the same time, he can’t be seen with it. He ends up gently wrapping the hoodie in his towel, since it’s the only thing in the bag that’s remotely clean.

First thing he does when he gets home is to hang the hoodie up to dry, draping it over a chair in his room. For some reason, he’s worried that the damp towel will stain it, or that the scent of the hoodie will fade, and he does his damn hardest not to examine that feeling of worry any further.

Dinner is awful enough that he nearly forgets about it. Sid is in a bad mood, and his mom tries to get through it by pretending nothing is wrong. Meanwhile Johnny’s caught in the middle, and his refusal to join in and play pretend has that asshole turn his attention entirely on him. Not that he expected any less. The only good days are the ones when he's remains unnoticed - entirely forgotten about.

When he returns to his room, he’s breathless with anger, overwhelmed by an itching beneath his skin to lash out at anyone, anything. And there’s the hoodie, burning red, a single thing to draw his focus. He remembers when LaRusso came by the dojo – how he shone bright amongst all the white clad students. Even in a sea of cobras, Johnny noticed him; even when Johnny was trusted to lead the others, his eyes snapped to that fiery red immediately, and for a moment, that was the only thing he saw.

LaRusso has a tendency to just… exist. No matter where Johnny turns, there he is. Big eyes full of challenge, soft lips that so easily twist into a sneer or a daring taunt. And now his damn hoodie is right here, in Johnny’s room, and just like when LaRusso decides to have the audacity to exist in Johnny’s vicinity – the hoodie is the only thing he can see.

Anger is still coursing through him when he picks it up, and only when it’s in his hands does he realize that his intent isn’t to rip it to shreds. Instead, he strokes the fabric with the palm of his hand, checking if it’s dried.

It’s still impossibly soft. He wonders if wearing it makes LaRusso feel safe.

He wonders if it still smells like Daniel.

Johnny bows his head, nuzzling his face in the red cotton, and he breathes in.

Maybe he should wonder why he so easily recognizes Daniel’s scent. How he already has words for it; words like; asphalt after a summer rain, a bonfire on the beach, heady, salty, familiar.

He breathes slowly, feeling his racing pulse slow, and the fiery anger in his chest burns out. Whatever’s coursing through his veins now, it’s very different from before.

Johnny puts the hoodie down on the chair and goes to bed. As he tries to fall asleep, he does his best not to stare at the red fabric. He fails.

For the longest time, LaRusso’s sweater is just a feature in his room. It’s on his chair, half the time covered by other clothes. It’s easy to pretend he doesn’t know it’s there – easy to ignore the fact that it’s been weeks, and it’s still in Johnny’s home instead of, like, at the bottom of the sea... or something.

On the days when he allows himself to think about it, he reasons that there’s no spectacular way to destroy someone’s hoodie. He might as well ignore it until he’s got an actual plan.

Then the tournament happens.

It’s not the fight with LaRusso itself that haunts him, no, it’s what comes after. Johnny falls from grace so quickly, not simply because he lost, but for admitting defeat and complimenting his rival. Apparently, it’s a crime punishable by death. Apparently, only someone like LaRusso’s sensei would save him, because the universe has a cruel sense of irony.

He’s not even sure how he makes it home that night. He’s worn out, his muscles ache, his throat is bruised and he’s got a hard time drawing breath. He’s also drunk enough it’s a fucking miracle he makes it to his room without his mom or Sid noticing.

He doesn’t turn the lights on. Instead, he strips off his clothes until he’s down to his underwear, intending to put on something to sleep in, but it just… seems meaningless. At this point, he can’t imagine ever sleeping again. If he closes his eyes for too long, he can still feel that pressure on his throat.

For a while, he’s stood in his room, staring into space, frozen in time. On his chair, the hoodie is so bright, even in the dark. Johnny’s too drunk to think about it. He puts LaRusso’s hoodie on, and it’s snug over his shoulders, but it fits.

The cotton is so very soft. He wonders if this is how it feels to be loved – if something that is loved eventually turns soft, and gentle to the touch.

Johnny doesn’t intend to sleep, but he does. He falls asleep wearing the hoodie, and despite the months that have passed, he still imagines Daniel’s scent. That night, it’s the only thing he dreams about, and it’s better than any dream he could have hoped for.

Bobby apologizes to LaRusso, because – despite his temper – he’s always been the kindest one of the group. Johnny wishes he could follow in his footsteps. He wonders if telling LaRusso he’s “alright” counts as an apology.

Either way, school is ending. Soon enough, he won’t have to think about this at all. LaRusso is too smart not to fuck off into the world to accomplish great things, and Johnny, well… who cares.

He considers returning the hoodie though, it’s just – there’s simply no way of doing it that wouldn’t be incredibly awkward. It’s been _months._ At this point he’s got no explanation for keeping it, and if he were to try to return it anonymously, someone might catch him.

For the greater good, and for his sanity, Johnny decides to keep it.

Until the day he moves out, it’s never out of sight; always on his chair, his floor, his bed. That sliver of red, so similar to Johnny’s jacket, yet of a different breed. A gentleness he’s still trying to figure out.

When he gets the fuck away from Sid, he packs two bags with the intention of never looking back. If he forgets something, so be it; he’s done. In one of those bags is the hoodie, but Johnny doesn’t look at it after his move. He stuffs it in a closet, not exactly intending to forget it, he just… needs not to think about it for a while.

Then life happens

Life happens, and suddenly he’s a father.

Johnny is a father and he’s barely figured out how to be a person. He deals with it the only way how he knows how; he holds his son – _his Robby_ – and then he gets shitfaced. When he returns home, he tears out the content of his closet, because he’s convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, he managed to bring some of his baby clothes when he left home. As if a young adult would ever prioritize bringing their childhood clothes while escaping from their psychotic step parent.

He finds nothing but jeans and t-shirts, and a brightly red hoodie he hasn’t seen in years.

Johnny needs any stability he can find. Any reassurance that life is fair, and that even when he doesn’t do good, he’s still alright – he’s still worthy of saving.

He ends up wearing the hoodie for the first time in years, and it’s not like it fixes anything – how could it? It’s cheap fucking cotton from the eighties. But the longer he wears it the more his breathing evens out. The world is still spinning out of his control, but he’s not in a free fall anymore.

He’s not convinced that he can do this – _at all_ – but he’s willing to try.

The hoodie hasn’t smelled like LaRusso in a decade, but when wearing it, Johnny only needs to close his eyes to remember Daniel’s scent. It shouldn’t be reassuring, but it is.

From that moment on, he wears the hoodie from the to time. Only on days when it’s especially hard to get out of bed. Only on days when he needs to feel something soft against his skin.

He’s not sure why he thought he would be able to get through life without encountering LaRusso again. He’s not sure why he envisioned the reunion to be anything but messy.

Thing is, though, it’s not all bad. In the midst of the chaos, there’s something familiar, something nostalgic. There’s something in the way Daniel looks at him – stares, to be frank – and then turns away as if he’s being subtle about it. There’s something in those dark eyes reserved just for Johnny, and it feels just like old times.

And, just like how things used to be when they were young, it seems they're incapable of existing in the same space without wreaking havoc. Everything descends into fucking chaos, and the only thing keeping him from solely blaming LaRusso for it, is his own self-hatred.

His son is _gone._ The kid is in a down-ward spiral, and Johnny knows full well where you end up if no one catches you.

Sure, Johnny doesn’t know _how_ to catch someone in a free fall, but he feels like LaRusso _might._

Johnny doesn’t intend for Daniel to see him in the hoodie. It just sort of happens. All he cares about is repairing whatever he can, and to do that he needs to ensure that he doesn’t fall apart until he’s on the other side of this mess. So, he turns to the only thing in his life, except for alcohol, that could possibly keep him together.

That’s how he ends up wearing the damn hoodie in front of Daniel, and maybe he should be thankful he’s managed to get beat to a pulp beforehand, because thankfully LaRusso focuses on his face – when does he not?

The hoodie is never mentioned. They set out on the road looking to fix something that can’t be fixed – looking for a redemption Johnny doesn’t deserve.

Maybe his failure is written in the stars, or maybe he’s just a fucking loser. Not even the hoodie could save him. He doesn’t blame it though. It would have to be woven from pure magic to contain a fuck-up like Johnny Lawrence.

He doesn’t deserve to be saved, and he doesn’t deserve second chances, and yet, Daniel saves Johnny; yet, they find common ground. At this point, it feels like neither of them deserves a break, and maybe that’s why they get it.

No one exits the chaos unscathed, but they all get a chance at something better. Or well, for Robby it gets worse before it gets better. Eventually, it does though; Kreese has never been able to keep people around long-term.

For months, Johnny carries the hoodie in his bag. He brings it to the dojo, and then back home. He just needs it close, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if life suddenly surprises him again. Things at the dojo are good. Things with Robby are good.

Johnny knows better than to expect life to simply _be good._ That’s not how it works. He just needs to know that when shit hits the fan next time, he’s got some line of defence. He’s got a chance to feel that soft fabric strain over his arms – to remember how to breathe before he ends up at a bar, or in a street fight.

Thankfully, life stays good.

Unfortunately, Daniel ends up finding the hoodie.

It’s an evening just like any other. Nothing particular has happened. They’re cleaning up after the last class, and Daniel wants to be a decent guy or whatever. He grabs Johnny’s bag to hand it to him, and the hoodie falls to the floor.

Johnny can do nothing but accept his bag, staring in horror as Daniel picks the hoodie off the floor. “This always catches my eye”, Daniel says, smiling, dusting off the worn-out fabric. “I swear I used to have one that looked just like…”

Johnny doesn’t have to guess why Daniel’s fallen silent. He’s staring, wide-eyed, at the name tag. It’s faded, but Lucille is a stubborn woman; she tagged all of Daniel’s clothes by stitching “D.L” into them.

“Johnny, this can’t be…”

And he clears his throat. “Listen, LaRusso – “

“Don’t _LaRusso_ me”, Daniel says, that fiery jersey temper bursting out of him. He doesn’t seem angry though – he’s still just staring at Johnny. “Is this my hoodie? From _high school?”_

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? What kind of response is that?” And Daniel laughs now, that airy chuckle he does when he’s in disbelief – or arguing with a teenager.

“You’re a smart guy”, Johnny says, going for casual, because what else could he possibly do at this point. “Do you think I would purchase a hoodie that looks like some shit you’d wear in high school and then cross-stitch your name into it?”

Daniel shakes his head, his gaze wandering between Johnny and the hoodie, as if he can’t decide where it would be appropriate to look at this point. “When you say it like that, it almost sounds normal that you’d… come into possession of my clothes?”

“Only one sweater, Daniel, don’t be dramatic”, Johnny sighs, reaching for the hoodie, and LaRusso lets him have it. Their fingers brush – it happens a lot these days – but Johnny doesn’t allow it to linger, not this time. He’s made it weird beyond, well, his normal levels of weird.

“How long have you had it?”

Daniel doesn’t avert his eyes now. Things are different from when they were in high school. That dark gaze holds him firm, and Johnny doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It almost feels like the touch of soft, loved fabric.

“I found it at a second-hand store last year”, Johnny mutters, rolling his eyes. “How long do you _think_ I’ve had it?”

“Since we were seventeen”, Daniel replies, immediately, his voice very, very soft.

For the first time in, honestly, Johnny doesn’t know how long, he’s the one to avert his eyes. “It’s a good guess.”

He can hear Daniel take a deep breath. It sounds like the sort of breathing exercises he’d do while training. For a while, there’s nothing. Johnny doesn’t know what he expects. Getting yelled at would be a minimum, honestly; there aren’t really words for how fucking weird this is.

Then Daniel’s hand is on his arm, a gentle touch on his bicep, his fingers resting on Johnny’s t-shirt, the palm of his hand warm against Johnny’s skin. “Wanna tell me about it? We could grab a beer?”

“Smart move, LaRusso, you should probably bring your stalker to a bar”, Johnny says, because sarcasm and cruelty is pretty much his last line of defence – and if he can’t turn it outwards, he can at least turn on himself. “Much safer to keep things in a public space.”

Daniel snorts a laugh at that, and Johnny meets his gaze again, if only to see him smile; to catch that gleam in his eyes, the way everything about him is soft and warm.

“I was thinking we could head to my place”, Daniel says, speaking slowly. It’s reminiscent of how he speaks when he teaches, but there’s an edge to it now. Johnny feels like if he were to reply _“yes, sensei”,_ things would really get out of hand.

“Why?”

“Because you’re too clumsy to be a stalker”, Daniel murmurs, chuckling at his own words, as if the mere thought is hilarious. “And because I feel like this is something we should talk about in private.”

“Okay”, and Johnny swallows thickly, chancing a smile, hoping it comes across as something suave rather than desperate. “Do you want me to drive us there?”

“Sure”, Daniel says, licking his lips in thought. “And since we’re drinking, you’re welcome to stay the night.”

Johnny nods, slowly, feeling like he might be misinterpreting things. Feeling like he can’t be _hopeful_ until they’re through the conversation that they definitely need to have. Still, he smiles again, and it feels much less forced this time. “I’d like that.”

Daniel holds his gaze, and Johnny knows exactly for how long, because he counts the seconds. He used to do it back when he was a teen.

He’d tell himself it was about determining if Daniel was a _problem_ ; the longer they held eye contact, the more of a threat he was. They could stare at each other for dozens of seconds back then.

In a way, not much has changed. Maybe Johnny’s just gotten better at threat assessment.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes i write short things on [tumblr](http://comediakaidanovsky.tumblr.com/) as well (but mostly i just cry about fictional characters), and i also have a messy af [twitter](https://twitter.com/comediafic)


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